


Attach

by klancevld



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean lance, Alternate Universe, Gay Keith, IDK YET BUT, Im warning you, M/M, Sad ending?, Slow Burn, Space AU, astrologist keith, bi lance, broganes, i hope this goes as planned but im kind of making it up as i go along?, keith being emo, klangst, lance is hopelessly dumb and adorable, lance pov, oh god what have I done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-08
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-01-31 00:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12664494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klancevld/pseuds/klancevld
Summary: "Lance is a lonely alien who looks similarly to humans, he lands on earth to learn about the people, blend in, and then disappear. He doesn't plan on falling in love with a young astrologist named Keith, but he cant remain on earth forever."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My mutual, Zane (@telelance), posted this beautiful, inspiring prompt on twitter and I immediately fell in love. It's rough, it's confusing, I can already tell we are going to be in for a wild ride.

The breath released from Lance’s lungs in a long stroke of exasperation as his ship entered the atmosphere of “Earth”. It might have been his first real Out-Planet mission, but the feeling that seeped through his stomach wasn’t exactly excitement. So much could go wrong, so much was unknown.

 

“Why can’t it end here? I’ve been studying ‘Earth’ for months, I know everything there is to know about the planet. Why do I have to go there?” He had whined to his instructor a phoeb or so ago.

 

“Lance,” she responded condescendingly, in her thick Altean accent that made it sound like ‘Lonce’. “You know how the program worked ever since you applied. We are diplomats, we travel to foreign worlds to blend in and immerse ourselves into the cultural education of the lives of others. Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

 

He had mumbled his response, reluctant to admit Allura was right or resign to fear.

 

But of course he was afraid. He was barely 19 deca-phoebs old; he was overly cocky, he constantly feigned tenacity, and he had never been out of his Home Sector, let alone Altea itself. But it was what he signed up for, and everyone got the jitters on their first Out-Planet. So what if the fear edged its way over the excitement every once in awhile?

 

And that’s what was happening now. The abhorrence crept over his skin like dirt caked on a shovel, masking the eagerness that was supposed to be there. His hands began to tremor as he shifted in his seat, rocketing at mach speed through the puffy Earth clouds. The sight of their softness would have relaxed him if it wasn’t for the blaring siren in his head that reminded him the first rule of Out-Planet: don’t trust the attractive; it’s probably poisonous.

 

He checked his right dashboard for the fifth time that dobosh, heartbeat pulsing in his very eyeballs. The radar cloaking was still fully functional, as well as his thrusters and main fuel supply. Everything was in tact and the journey had been completely and utterly flawless, no mechanical malfunctions or mid-galactic situations to account for.

 

_So why am I terrified for my fucking life?_

 

The thought prodded around through Lance’s mind, shifting his focus from the obvious success of his mission so far to the unrealistic wariness of the journey ahead.

 

He closed his eyes and exhaled again slowly, gripping the ship’s handles tighter.

 

_It’s only for three phoebs._

_Or twelve movements._

_Or ninety quintants._

_Or eighteen hundred vargas._

_Or one-hunded and eight thousand doboshes_

_Or 6 million, four hundred and ei—_

 

Lance’s impeccable math skills were interrupted by a ding on his left dashboard, noting a change in atmospheric pressure. His ship was getting closer to ground level. He peered into the sky ahead of him, noting that the clouds had become thinner, resembling something of Altean murk. For some reason it relaxed him, filling with an ache of homesickness but relief. Maybe this planet wouldn’t be so different from Altea after all.

 

He checked the third-hand on his wrist ticker that rested idly on near the seven mark, noting that he had barely been away for a movement. But he already missed Hunk’s food and Pidge’s sarcasm—heck, he even missed the Coran, the eccentric UA headmaster who had taken a strange liking to the trio—which was part of the reason why Lance was able to embark on Out-Planet despite his young age—and shaky flying expertise.

 

For a moment a sense of loneliness ached through the silence of his cockpit, surrounding him in a suffocating blanket of realization that caught his trembling breath in his throat. Space did that to a person, and even as he descended on a bustling, largely inhabited planet—he knew the feeling wouldn’t dissipate for the phoebs he was here. He was an outsider, and he would remain that way as much as his Earthlean disguise form would say otherwise. He would have no one on this strange planet. He would be alone.

 

But there wasn’t much time for him to dwell on this, as the clouds suddenly released him into a vast clear landscape. His eyes blinked as he adjusted to the light, and he found the ground evaporate from blinding light to a sea of beige. The waves stood with still integrity, holding immaculate peaks of gold. It was the strangest yet most beautiful thing Lance had ever seen, and it seemed to stretch for miles and miles.

 

Lance had always had an intense affinity for the ocean, and although he preferred the clear blue Altean waters, some of his uneasiness began to evaporate into the caves of his gut with the sight of the brownish sea that shimmered like the surface of a Balmeran crystal.

 

_Sometimes the sea feels more like home to me than Altea itself does._ Lance had said wistfully to Hunk one night as they sat on the roof of UA. _Let alone space._

 

_Funny, since you’re part of Altea’s most respected intergalactic explorational diplomacy program._ Hunk had chucked out in response. _Maybe you’re in the wrong profession, Lance._

 

Lance had let the thought filter through the air and float up to the aforementioned sky so he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. It never understood it, but as much as the sea spoke to him, space always called louder. But the grass is always greener, right?

 

He now tore his gaze from the intriguing landscape below him to begin landing protocol, pushing down the anxiety than began to bubble in his abdomen to type Altean code into the receiver above his head, which sent a message to HQ that he was about to hit ground. His eyes flashed to the windspeed on the right of his dash. It read 53 clons per varga, so he adjusted the aircraft accordingly, leveling off the wings to the horizon. He extended the flaps, engaged the landing gear, and reduced the throttle. Each motion was swift and methodical, as Lance had rehearsed this landing in an Earth simulator thousands of times. Unfortunately, Lance tended to crash the simulator often. And even more unfortunately, this was the first time any _person_ from Altea had actually landed on Earth, so there were things the simulator didn’t know; things the simulator didn’t account for. Like the simulator didn’t account for an ocean landing. Furthermore, the simulator didn’t account for a dormant, _unmoving_ , _tan_ ocean. But the one thing the simulator sure as hell never accounted for, was an Earthling; standing right below the craft.


	2. Chapter 2

When Lance saw the figure, he choked on air, mumbling a string of profanities under coarse breath. 

 

It started out well formatted, but his eloquent cursing slowly morphed into “Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit” 

as he struggled to maneuver the craft away from the figure. 

 

_How did I miss this dude?!_

 

He wondered in a fit of exasperation as he grappled with the controls. But he knew the answer, there was _always_ a blindspot in the simulator that he _always_ forgets to check and some way or another, and he _always_ knew it would bite him in the ass eventually.

 

He made a silent note to tell Hunk to put blindspot cameras on LD crafts when he graduated and became a world renowned engineer. 

 

Or he could have just told him to design makeshift ones _before_ he left for his trip, but hindsight is 20/20, right? 

 

Lance quickly retracted the flaps and adjusted settings, but it did nothing. He began making last attempts to pull up, but it was no use. He was already descending too fast, too close to the water. He was going to crash, one way or another. 

 

A thought occurred to him as he braced for impact: _Wait, since when can Earthlings walk on water?_

 

He racked his brain for any evidence of water-strolling beings in any of his studies, mentally flipping through the UA’s research pages of Earth. All he could come up with was some fantasy guy named Jesus from one of the world’s many moral systems. 

 

But he didn’t have time to ponder it further, because his jet promptly nosedived into a wave. 

 

He expected to dive into the sea and become buoyant, a hit that would yield as the craft floated. But nothing gave, and the impact was tough like dirt. 

 

He began to open his eyes cautiously; half out of confusion and half out of fear that he had hit the person. He prayed that he wouldn’t get out of his craft to find the crumbled remains of a helpless Religion Dude. 

 

_Oh no, did I just kill Jesus?_

 

When light struck his pupils, he was immediately more confused. All he could see out his windshield was tan. Tan nothingness. And he was stationary, unbouncing, unfloating, un _moving_. 

 

He put his face in his hands, shaking his head back and forth. “Not on Earth for TEN TICKS, I don’t know how I managed it.” He grumbled out loud. Well, it’s not like it was much of a surprise. He crashed the simulator more often than not. But the trip so far had gone so smoothly! He thought this time would be different! 

 

He huffed out some air from his chest, deciding that sooner or later he would have to get out through the back and find where the _hell_ he was, and what the _hell_ he was in. 

 

He stood up and almost climbed out like a full-blown Altean if it wasn’t for his reflection on a steel panel that caught in his peripheral. He turned to it, placing a hand on his cheek-markings as if he didn’t recognize himself. The boy staring back at him looked determined, mature, assured, tired. Inside he was filled with unease and the feeling of un-blissful ignorance, unsure of anything he wanted to be sure of. He had _no idea_ what the _fuck_ he was doing and the only part of him that felt to match his reflection was that he was _exhausted_. He sighed yet again, hoping that after he sorted this mess out he would be able to find some shut eye. Somewhere. 

 

He closed his eyes then, summoning up any last energy that waded inside of him to morph into an Earthling. Not much had to be done luckily, just fading the markings and curving his pointy ears into something softer and uglier. But he grinned at his new reflection, noting the glow of his clear skin and Earthly charm. I look good, he decided, before giving himself finger-guns and turning away. 

 

A newfound courage flowed through him then, filling his chest with a lightness that wasn’t there before. Even if it tended to be feigned, his confidence was his best attribute. He switched his pride on as he shuffled to the back of his craft. The assurance of how far he had made it without dying pumped through his veins like gas to the ignition. He’d heard of Out-Planets where cloaking devices failed leaving pilots vulnerable to open-fire from the planet’s army forces, ships exploded in minutes. He’d heard of Out-Planets where Alteans blew their own cover and ended up captured by the government and mutilated or sacrificed to a higher power. To make it this far—Lance was lucky. It was going smoothly, all things considered. 

 

He reached the back hatch of his craft and paused for a moment, considering his next move. He had no idea who or what he was to find out there. But there was nothing left to do other than face it, so he grabbed the handle and turned, making a decision to hold his breath at the last-second. 

 

When his eyes adjusted to the blinding afternoon light, Lance found himself atop the tan landscape he saw earlier, the word _dessert_ popping into his mind. He released his breath, letting gritty air fill his lungs. He crouched down and dug his hand into the ground below him, the granules of matter falling through his fingers. 

 

“Sand,” he whispered, the word falling out of his lips before he could think about it. Lance studied these _dessert_ conditions briefly, though only skimming through the pages depicting _dunes_ and _cacti_ because he doubted he would encounter any. Of course. 

 

“Hey! Idiot!”

 

A husked voice stirred Lance from the silent scolding he had starting giving himself, erecting his body into alertness. Around the corner of a dune ran a teenage boy in a red jacket with a thin build and a brooding haircut that fell over stern and shifty eyes. Wait, were they purple? 

 

“Will you watch where you’re landing? Jesus Christ!” 

Lance began snickering, realizing this must have been the figure he saw, cursing his own supposed namesake. Jesus Christ indeed. 

 

“What the hell is so funny?” The kid crossed his arms over his chest, thick eyebrows furrowing. 

 

“Nothing.” Lance stood to stoic attention, voice cracking as the words left him. “Sorry.” 

 

“‘Sorry’?” He spat, looking Lance up and down suspiciously. “You almost took the telescope off my house!” 

 

Lance stepped out of his craft to follow where the boy’s hand gestured, peering over the dune he had crashed into to see a colossal structure next to some sort of observatory with a towering cylindrical piece protruding from the top. “How did I _miss_ that?” Lance muttered, eyes full of wonder. 

 

“Well, it’s a good thing you did otherwise you would owe me way more than ‘sorry’,” 

 

Lance narrowed his eyes at the boy, half perplexed and half annoyed. Earth was supposed to be full of kind, compassionate beings. The data that Altea had collected suggested words like _understanding_ and _welcoming._ But by the look on this dude’s face and his closed-off stance, the data was wrong about one thing. But Lance decided not to make generalizations before he could ruminate on what _else_ Altea had been wrong about. 

 

“What the hell are you doing flying around here, anyway?” The boy asked with hostility. 

 

He looked over Lance again, narrowed eyes lingering above tiny details of his body, inexplicable expressions flashing on his face. It would have made Lance uncomfortable if he wasn’t doing the same thing to the boy, dragging his gaze over every feature of the Earthling. His cheeks were dotted with the faintest of freckles that almost looked out of place on his austere face. A belt hung lazily from his thin waist. His fingers were wrapped in black gloves that tapped impatiently on his forearm. Overall, he was overdressed for the scorching  _dessert_ that they were in, which only captivated him more. 

Lance’s mind soaked up knowledge like a dehydrated fish. He was practically dying to learn, dying to experience, dying to live. That was part of what got him as far as he did. And despite his rudeness, this alien was so intriguing to Lance. But “intrigue will get you killed”. It was a mantra of the UA, always reminding you to be inquisitively cautious. 

 

The boys eyes narrowed further. “You must be a Garrison kid. God, I thought I told them to stop sending their pilots over here. All it does is interfere with my software, and none of you can fucking fly anymore in the first place!”  

 

Lance, of course, had no idea what he was talking about, nor had the time to respond before the boy was pacing over to Lance’s ship to inspect it. Lance opened his mouth to object, but words failed him.

 

“The Garrison must have updated their crafts since they booted me.” The boy murmured under his breath. “This is insane.” 

 

He turned then abruptly to Lance, face an inches away. Lance could feel his own hands shaking. His eyes fell down to Lance’s plain outfit, something the program suggested would be appropriate for Earth.  “You’re not in uniform, though. And there’s no way the Garrison would let out their ships this late unless...” 

Lance raised his eyebrows, just as confused. “You’re a runaway!” 

 

Lance then felt himself nodding, unsure why he was doing it other than the fact that he might as well create a persona for himself that was realistic to where he was. 

 

“Well, I don’t blame you. I would have done the same sooner or later if I hadn’t—“ 

 

“Keith!” A voice called out, looming from over the dune where the boy’s house was. They both stepped back to see a man, young but older than the boy with many of the same features. He walked towards them, eyes flashing between the two boys. “Keith? What happened?” 

 

“This Garrison kid crashed here, almost killing me and destroying our house in the process.” 

 

The man’s eyes filled with concern as he walked down to the boys’ level, looking at Lance. “Are you hurt?” 

 

“I’m fine.” Lance said quickly. 

 

“That’s good to hear, cadet.” He patted the back of Lance’s shoulder amiably, manner more aligning with the Altean description of Earthlings. Lance smiled at this. “I’m Shiro Kogane, and this is my brother, Keith.” 

 

Lance shook his extended hand, proud that he remembered the customary greeting for this part of Earth. Keith however, didn’t attempt to address Lance formally at all. He stood with his arms still crossed, skeptically glaring at Lance.

 

Shiro looked between the two of them, knitting his eyebrows. 

“And you are?”

 

“Lance.” His voice came out weaker than he wanted it to, so he cleared his throat and said it again. “Lance Mcclain.” 

 

Shiro’s eyes lit up. “Oh, are you British?” 

 

“No, I’m okay.” Lance grinned, trying to be polite as possible through his cluelessness. Shiro’s face faltered, glancing at Keith. 

 

“I’m telling you Shiro, this kid’s a lunatic!” 

 

“Hey, watch it!” Lance spat back, getting fed up with this kid’s rudeness and stepping closer to Keith. He reciprocated the motion and squared up to parallel his body language. 

 

“Keith, relax.” Shiro said sternly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turned to Lance. “Should we call the Garrison and tell them what happened?” 

 

Keith scoffed. “Better not do that; _Lonce_ is a runaway.” 

 

Anger boiled underneath Lance’s skin. “First you yell at me for saving your life and wrecking my ship in the process, and now you mock my accent!” He threw his hands up. 

 

“‘ _Saving my life_ ’?” Keith growled in bewilderment. “You nearly decapitated me!” 

 

“I wouldn’t have gotten close if you weren’t standing right under where I was going to la—“ 

 

“Stop it! Both of you!” Shiro yelled, stepping between the boys. Keith and Lance both turned away, arms crossed and noses in the air. “The important thing is that you’re both safe.” 

 

Lance sneered. Keith chortled. 

 

“Lance, I’m a mechanic. I can fix up your ship for you.” Shiro said. “And while you’re waiting, we’d be happy to host you.” 

 

“WHAT?!” Keith ululated. 

 

“You heard what I said, Keith. It’s the least we can do.” Shiro insisted.

 

_“Absolutely_ not!” Keith cried, turning to Shiro, looking like a whiny child standing up to their mother. “I will not have a preppy Garrison jerk staying in our house. No way.” 

 

“It’s not like I wanna see your face every day either, asshole!” Lance piped. 

 

“Too bad! Because both of you are going to have to deal with it whether you like it or not. It’s my job to—“ 

 

“But—!” Keith protested. 

 

“‘But’ nothing, Keith. You were a lost Garrison jerk once, too.” 

 

Keith immediately softened, even if only slightly. He stood back, looking over Lance yet again. Then he turned around, and walked off, fists still clenched. 

 

Lance let out a release of appalled breath. He almost began wishing that he had the fate of the other Out-Planetmen. A sacrificial war planet suddenly sounded a lot better than Keith Kogane. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know desert is spelled with one s.   
> But Lance is Altean, remember? English is his second language, pals.   
> Speaking of, are we ever gonna get an explanation for how literally every alien in Voltron casually speaks English?  
> Cause that is so convenient.  
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this KLANGST and I hope you're ready for more.   
> I apologize for my chapters being so short and my writing being so sporadic and shitty but I hope you'll stick around because it's gonna be g00d.   
> Thanks for reading, laid ease.


End file.
